My big fat Rohirric wedding
by Lilya
Summary: When Tolkien meets Greece. After surviving the Shadow and the attack of the Witch King, will Eowyn be able to survive her wedding day? With Eomer as wedding planner everything is possible...
1. Default Chapter

Title: My big fat Rohirric wedding 

Author: Lilya

E-mail: **lylalay@virgilio.it**

Genre: Humor/Parody/Romance/Drama 

Summary: When Tolkien meet Greece. After surviving the shadow and the attack of the Witch King, will Éowyn be able to survive her wedding day? With Éomer as wedding planner everything is possible… 

Main characters: Éomer, Éowyn and Faramir.

Pairing: Éowyn/Faramir and Éomer/Lothiriel    

Rating: G    

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Tolkien. The movie "My big fat Greek wedding" belongs to Nia Vardalos.     

Author's note: I'm not English and I'm not translating. That's right: I'm trying to write directly in English. And that's the first time I try. Yeah, I know, I'm crazy… . Anyway, please correct me.  

My big fat Rohirric wedding 

Good morning, sister. I hope you'll forgive me, but I'm really busy today. 

I shake my head: poor Éomer, he's always so caught up in his duty as king of Rohan. We've barely seen each other since he came back from the last battle and about talking to each other like we used to…Well, let's not talk about it. Even because there's nothing to talk about. 

So, how have you spent these last days? he asks me, not really paying attention.     

Oh, you know, the usual…sword practicing, riding, talking to Arwen, attending feasts, accepting Faramir's proposal…

Good, good…WHAT?!     

Oh, so he _still _has his sense of hearing! I was beginning to worry, you know…

Excuse me, sister, I don't think I heard exactly what you said…

All right. Erase the last sentence. 

I catch my breathe: this is going to be _very_ hard. I said I accepted Faramir's proposal.

_What _proposal exactly?  

I have known Éomer for 22 years and sometimes he can still makes me wonder…is he really stupid or just plays a part? Because if he does, I must say he's very good at it!  

Éomer, what is a proposal usually? Faramir-asked-me-to-marry-him-and-I-said-I-will. Do you understand what I'm saying or I must draw it?    

He glares at me: Éowyn, I am your older brother _and_ king of Rohan…

I know, I know. 

We fall silent. 

Do you really have to? he asks me suddenly.

What? 

Marry him. I mean…it's too early! We don't know him well, we don't know hat kind of man he is…

Speak for yourself, Éomer. I say I _do_ know him and I _do _know what kind of man he is, thankyouverymuch.      

And what about King Elessar? I thought you had a crush on him…

In case you didn't notice, King Elessar is happily married. And I got over that crush long ago.

Oh yeah? And tell me, sister…you aren't accepting Lord Faramir's proposal out of sadness, are you?

Now I don't like what he's implying. Not at all. And he won't like it too…

Of course I'm not! I love Faramir and he loves me. I want to be his wife and spend my life by his side.  

Éomer smirks: Such ardent words…I didn't know you were such a romantic girl, Éowyn…

Girl your sister! I'm a woman!

Éowyn?

Yes?

_You are_ my sister…

Oops! Well, you know what I meant.

Damn. I bet he'll remind of this "slip of tongue" until my death. And maybe beyond.

You're still young! It's not like you can't wait one year or two…or ten.  

Éomer, if you want to be married on your deathbed it doesn't mean that I have to do the same! By the way, Lothiriel is starting to be fed up with waiting…  

I'm not lying to him…well, more or less.   

Éomer blushes furiously. Aww, isn't he cute? You just have to say Lothiriel's name and his cheeks  will be on flame…and he'll be _terribly embarrassed_!  

We're not talking about _my_ marriage! he grunts. Anyway, I can't see the reason to be on such a hurry… his cheeks, so red that almost glowed, suddenly become deathly pale. His eyes are open wide and he's staring at me. 

Èowyn… he barely whispers …is there something you need to tell me?  

I stare at him, absolutely puzzled: What? No, why?

Are you…are you sure? I promise I won't get angry…

I raise from my chair and put one hand on his forehead: Éomer, are you all right? Do you want me to fetch an healer? Maybe you worked too much…

Èowyn, _please_, it didn't happen what I think it happened…did it?  

Éomer, what in Eru's name are t… and suddenly I understand what he was thinking. Now, I have two choices. First, laugh at him. Second, be very, _very_ angry. But it's not really something I can decide, so…

WHAT!? I  shout, furious. You thought the Faramir had…that we had…that I am…WHO DO YOU THINK WE ARE? Faramir is an honorable man!   

Honorable indeed! he shouts back, his cheeks red again. An honorable man would have asked me first! 

Oh, poor Lothiriel, you'll break her heart!  

Don't play dumb, sister! You know what I meant. 

I'm not laughing anymore: He's going to marry _me_, not you: so why in the Valar's name should he ask you first?

Because it's proper! 

Oh, _please_, brother. Don't be so narrow-minded and old-fashioned!

Narrow-minded? Old-fashioned? Me?  

I look around: Can you hear this strange echo as well? 

Enough! he roars I told you what I think: it's too early! I won't allow you to marry him! 

You won't _what_?! Now listen, you thick-headed, overgrown child: _I _will marry Faramir and it's better if you start living with it!.

I storm out of the room fuming with anger and hear my brother call after me, but I don't turn back. 

I don't know how long I've been walking blindly in these corridors, nor I care. Finally, I go out in the sun: I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. I love my brother Éomer. I expected him to react badly, but not _that_ badly! I sigh. Brothers. They're impossible, but if they didn't exist somebody should really invent them. I don't want to lose him, but I don't want to lose Faramir either. 

Èowyn!     

I turn around and I find myself face to face with Lothiriel, my dear soon-to-be sister-in-law…well, not very _soon_-to-be. 

You look troubled, sister she  says, smiling at me and guiding me to a stone bench. Tell, me does your trouble start with "E" or with "F"?   

Definitely E 

My lovely fiancée, I see 

I stare at her with wide eyes.

My brother…lovely? Lothiriel, did you bump your head against something _very _hard or what? I shake my head I swear I'll never understand how can a nice, smart girl like yourself be in love with that…troll I got for brother.

And I swear I'll never understand how can a lively, brave girl like yourself be in love with that orch I got for cousin she replies dramatically. We look at each other and then we burst out laughing. 

Oh, Valar, Lothiriel, sometimes I think I'd go crazy if it wasn't for you!   

I'm sure she says not at all convinced So, did you tell Éomer the good news?

I wrinkle my nose up: I don't think he would call it a good news

Did he react that badly?

And here I am, telling her what happened. 

Soon my tale is over and Lothiriel shakes her head: Éomer, Éomer, Éomer…What should I do with you?

What about marry him? I ask innocently. 

Éowyn, we're not talking about my marriage… and now why are you laughing?

Oh, now I see that you and my brother are meant for each other! I choke out between my fits of laughter He told me exactly the same thing about…twelve minutes and twenty-five seconds ago 

Well… says Lothiriel raising from the bench I think I'll go to talk to him     

Thank you, Lothiriel. You are the only one who can make him come back to his senses…

Except for you

Not in _this_ case, unfortunately… I rolled my eyes. 

Lothiriel chuckles: I'll go. But I can't promise you anything…

Thank you anyway

Lothiriel leaves and I stay alone in the garden, thinking about my brother, how we grew up in Edoras and all the things we used to do together. 

Somebody puts one hand on my shoulder: I turn around and see the face of my beloved Faramir. 

May I sit down? he asks me and I chuckle.

You don't have to ask, Faramir. I'm your fiancée, not some unknown old lady. Beside… I add You're the Steward of Gondor: this is your city and I'm just a guest 

You won't be a guest for long, Éowyn. This is going to be _your_ city, too he caresses my cheek But let's not talk about this. You look troubled, my love

I sigh: I told Éomer of our wedding…

…and he didn't take it well. I must say I did expect it.

I raise an eyebrows, looking at him sideways: You did?

Of course he leans closer to me If I had such a beautiful sister like yourself, I'd be a very protective older brother 

Well, I'm happy you're a "youngest child" like me. That's why we understand each other perfectly

He smiles, looking like a child: Together against all the older brothers! 

Well, older brothers _are_ a pain I say, rolling my eyes They don't let you come near their room…

…don't let you breathe near their things…

…and they'll never lend you them I add

He nods in agreement and goes on:

When you do something wrong, they always threaten to beat you…

…or to report you to your caretakers

They're always teasing you…     

They're always fussing over you and don't let you breathe

They'd rather lock you up in your own room then let you grow up

They never like the way you dress, the way you style your hair, the way you hold your sword…

They're terribly jealous…

…and nosey! 

We shake our heads and sigh in unison: Brothers!.

Then we stay silent, and I lay my head on Faramir's shoulder.

Do you want me to go talk to him? he whispers as he strokes my hair.

No. Lothiriel is talking to him right now and maybe she'll obtain something  

And then we sit here, and speak no more. 

We stay like this fro a long time, until we hear footsteps approaching: after a moment, Éomer appears. He look at us with uneasiness and then clears his throat: Greetings, Lord Faramir. I wish to speak to my sister alone, if you don't mind

Of course I don't he raises and briefly squeezes my hand before walking away. 

Éomer waits in silence until he's gone, then comes near me. I don't say a word, and watch him as he fumbles with the hem of his shirt. I can't help but smiling fondly: he used to do so when he was barely a boy. A nervous boy. A nervous boy who hadn't studied his lesson.    

Éowyn… he whispers my name in a soft voice, so tenderly, so lovingly, and hold my hands into his. I'm sorry…I've been a total idiot. It's just that…well, you're my little sister and I don't to see you suffer. I've always tried to protect you, but…

Éomer… I cut him off gently You can't protect me from life

I know he nods slowly I know. But I'm afraid to lose you nonetheless 

I lay a hand on his arm and our eyes meet: You'll never lose me. Never I take a deep breathe But you can't ask me to choose between you and Faramir

I know. I won't he smiles at me I love you, sister he says holding me in his arms.

And I love you too I rely hugging him back. 

We break apart. 

Éomer?

Aye?  

What did Lothiriel tell you?

Believe me: you don't want to know!

Oh, I don't think so… I say mischievously  

He grins: That's why I'm not telling. By the way, I was thinking…

You _do_ think? I ask him in mock surprise.

Ha ha, very funny he replies As I was trying to say…I could help you with your wedding.   

That's very kind of you, but…

No buts. So it's set. he says raising You don't have to worry, I'll plan everything. Now I have to go, see you later 

Have you ever had a feeling of oncoming catastrophe? Well…that's _exactly_  what I feel right now…  


	2. Chapter two: preparations

Author's notes. 

I apologize to the readers and the reviewer for my slowness. Anyway, I hope to update soon. 

I know that in Middle Earth there are no circus, but I could not thing to anything else (or rather, I could, but it wasn't exactly proper…).  

I just wanted to say another thing: I know I'm being horrible to Éowyn and Éomer. It's not like I don't like them, quite the opposite in fact…But I couldn't resist!  

Last but not least, a big, big, big thank you to Lara who helped me with this chapter. All hail to her, please. 

And now, let's start…

Chapter two: Preparations  

I haven't seen my brother since we decided – or rather _he_ decided – that he was going to be our wedding planner, and that was five days ago. 

Now I'm going to see what the hell he's doing. Hey, it's _my_ wedding!  

Oh, Éowyn. What lucky chances brings you here? he greets me emerging from a pile of parchments. 

Oh, I just wanted to see how you're doing…

Just fine, sister, just fine. I've just finished with the list.

What list?

The list of guests.   

I frown: Shouldn't we discuss it with Faramir?  

Oh, we'll do it later…

Really? Before or after sending the invitations? 

Ehmm… 

Let me have a look. I sigh. 

He hands me a long roll of parchment. Very long. About three or four meters.

Éomer… I mutter, my eyes wide. I thought we had agreed on a small ceremony…

We did. Just a few close friends and relations.     

I look at him and then at the list. 

Let me check…  I start reading "Aelfric son of Earle, Aileen daughter of Earle, Aldhelm son of Banquo, Astaea daughter of Burk, Astophel daughter of Burk, Athelstan son of Burk…" I raise my gaze from the list Couldn't you group them for families?       

Éomer pretends not to hear me. I roll my eyes and go back to reading. 

Éomer, you can't invite the Blackwoods! I don't even know them!

But we're related, we can't leave out our own relations.

We are related? And how?

Well, our great-great-great-great-grandfather married a cousin of lord Blackwood's sister in law.      

A close relation indeed! I snort, but he doesn't catch my meaning. 

I told you…

Shaking my head, I resume to my reading-duty. A very _boring_ reading-duty. 

The list goes on. And on. And on.

Finally…

Ye…Yeoundi son of Runyon? 

Let me see… he cast a brief glance at the name I'm pointing him.

No, it's Yehundi son of Runyon.

Aah, now that's clear. And…who in Middle Earth is he?

The stable-boy.

The st…Éomer!    

Oh, don't be such a snob. 

I'm not a snob!

Then what's the matter?

Éomer, you're going to invite half Rohan at my wedding! An I don't even know most of the people here! I practically shriek, waving the list.  

So?

_A few close friends and relations_?! Speaking of friends, I don't see king Elessar nor queen Arwen here…

Well…we're in their kingdom, I think it was obvious that they'd come…   

It's _not _obvious, damnit! I say stomping my foot on the ground. Add their names _immediately_! 

 Yeah, yeah, chill out!

Chill out my horse. How are we going to feed all these people? We're will we celebrate the wedding? 

Don't you worry, I planned everything: we're going to celebrate it on the lawns outside the city

And the feast? What about the feast? 

Oh, well, we'll…"borrow" a hall for the banquet

 What do you mean with "borrow"?

Well, it's not like we have another choice…

I cover my face with my hands: I don't think I want to know…  

Éomer rolls his eyes: You're so dramatic! You don't have to worry, everything will be all right. 

And the music, what about the music? Have you called some musicians? 

Oops…I _knew_ there was something missing! But I'll do it immediately. Now, if you want to excuse me… and he shows me out the door You'll see, sister: it'll be the greatest Rohirric wedding ever!

Great. At first I was worried. Now I'm scared to death!  

Are you all right, Lothiriel? I ask her.

Sorry? Oh, yeah, I'm fine, thank you. she shakes her head Now I know why Éomer hasn't proposed yet…  

What do you mean? I ask her, very worried. 

Oh, well…You know how Rohirric weddings are… 

No, I don't know. I get on my feet Where is he? 

I don't know, I think he's with the musicians. Follow the noise.  

Thank you.

I leave her and start looking for my brother.

So he _did _call the musicians, after all…Maybe he's not so bad as a wedding planner.

I do as Lothiriel suggested, I follow the noise. 

I open the door and I almost have an heart attack. Women "dressed" in leather are wildly dancing – or rather convulsing – like someone had covered them with honey and sat them on an ant-heap, while a possessed-looking man is playing the drums. The women screams as they twirl around like drunk tops. And my brother Éomer is currently leaning against the wall, looking like the most peaceful man on Middle Earth and enjoying the show. 

I hope  that these people are not who I think they are…

I march toward that…that…oh, well, my brother. 

Éomer, what's going on? I ask him, putting my hands on my hips. 

What did you say? he shouts I can't hear you!  

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? I holler, pointing to "that". And from the look on his face, I think he heard me this time. 

Well, it was you the one who asked for the musicians…  

One, two, three, four…calm down, Éowyn…You can't choke him to death, he's your brother, do you remember? (Yes, but I wish I don't….) 

And do you call that noise music? The Witch King's rattling was more pleasant! And those…women, who are they? 

Uhm…Dancers?  

I bury my face in my hands, wondering what I have done to deserve such a thing…And such a brother. 

Where have you find them, in a circus?

Exactly, how did you guess?

Éomer… I growl, trying not to lose my temper …you'll dismiss these people _immediately_

But sister…

_NOW!_

He sighs, rolling his eyes. All right. Hey, folks, the show is over.  

I must admit it, he's not as bad as I thought. He's worse.   

I remember when I was in the Glittering Caves under Helm's Deep and heard the battle raging upon my head. I was worried and angry and frustrated. And also scared, because I felt trapped. 

I remember when I faced the Witch King, in front of Minas Tirith. I was scared, but firm and resolute. 

I remember that one day, King Elessar asked me what I feared and I answered the cage. 

I was wrong, for now I fear nothing more than facing my own brother. And discovering what else he has done for my wedding. 

I pluck up courage and knock on his door. 

Come in.

Hello, Éomer. What are you doing?

What am I doing? I… well… you see, I'm preparing the invitations. 

Drin, drin…An alarm bell is ringing in my mind.

Ah. The invitations…

Aye, the invitations.

May I have a look?

His cheeks lose all their color: the alarm bell rings louder. 

Oh, ehm… I don't think so, I haven't finished them yet…

The alarm bell is screaming by now. 

Éomer…

Aye?

_Give-me-that-parchment._

He swallows hard: All…all right, Éowyn

I grab the paper he's handing me. He has done something stupid. I _know_ he has done something stupid. 

I start reading: "Éomer, king of Rohan, announce the marriage of his sister Éowyn, daughter of  the later Éomund and Theowyn, niece of the later King Theoden and cousin of the later Theodred…" Why don't you write also "Cousin of the Blackwoods"? "…with the Steward of Gondor Lord Faramir, son of the later…" Again! "… son of the later Denethor Steward of Gondor and Finduilas of Dol Amroth and brother of the later Boromir". Is it an invitation or the war memorial? If they read something like this, they'll think they're going to a funeral vigil.

Well… It can be improved.

It should be rewritten. Anyway, let's go on. "The wedding will be celebrated on July 20th in the Great Hall of Minas Tirith. Free food and drinks after the ceremony! Don't miss it!" I raise my gaze slowly. Did you have to? It's a wedding, not a new inn!

Ehm….

I throw the parchment away. Give me a pen and some paper: I shall write it myself.

Ehm, there's a small… problem, my dear sister.

The alarm bell is back, louder than ever. 

_What_ problem, exactly?

I've already sent them…

ÉOMER! 

****

Two months ago: 

Éomer, what about the musicians? 

The musicians? Aah, the musicians! I was about to call them… If you will excuse me, my dear sister…

One moth ago:

Éomer, did you call the musicians?

I thought your wedding planner was going to do so…

Éomer…

Yes?

_You _are my wedding planner! 

Oh, that's true! I forgot…

So, did you call them or not?

I forgot that too…But don't you worry, I'll do it immediately

Two weeks ago:

Éomer, did you call…

Ehm, I think my chief advisor is calling me… I'll talk to you later, Éowyn. 

One week ago:

Éomer…

Yes?

Don't forget the musicians!

Don't you worry! I won't!

Two days ago:

Please, don't tell me…

I'm sorry, sister, I've been very busy lately…

Get out of my sight. Now.

Today.

Sister, I bring good news! Éomer announces proudly. 

You'll let someone else organize my wedding? I mutter under my breath. 

Beg your pardon?

What news do you have for me, my brother? 

"This is better be good…For his own sake, this is better be _very_ good…" 

I've called the musicians!

What a surprise! Oh, but you didn't have to hurry: there are still about…four days to my wedding. Truth to be told, I was starting to think that there were no music at all in Rohirric weddings…

Now you're unjust, sister… 

Éomer…

Aye?

When did you start organizing my wedding?

Ehm… Three months ago.

How often did I tell you to call the musicians?

About once a day.

See? So shut up. I raise. Where are they? I wish to see them.

Follow me, I'll show you the way.

As we walk down the corridors, Éomer doesn't stop repeating:

You'll see, you won't be disappointed! Their hands are made of gold!

Finally, we reach the room where they rehearsing. 

Here we are. Éomer announces throwing the door open Guys, may I introduce you to the bride?

The three men put down their instruments: one is limping toward us, the other cups his ear with one hand and shouts WHAT? and the last one is holding out his hand in the wrong direction.

Wonderful. A lame percussionist, a deaf trumpeter and a blind harpist.    

I wonder: is music so necessary in a wedding ceremony? 

I greet the musicians as kindly as I can, then we leave them to their rehearsing. 

So, what do you think about them? my brother asks me as soon as we're out of the room. 

Their hands can be very well made of gold, but the rest…

Oh, come on! After all I solved two problems with just one call.

What problem, exactly?

Well, you know that if a blind, a lame and a deaf attend the wedding, your children will be healthy.

I mumble something in return. Note to self: check if this tradition exist. I know I should trust him: after all, he's my brother… But that's exactly the reason why I don't trust him _at all_. 

By the way, you'll change your mind when you'll rehears with them.

Yeah, yeah, I'm sure… 

Stop. Rewind. 

_What did he say?_

When I'll WHAT?

Rehears whit them. The bride must sing at her wedding to bring good luck

Éomer, you _must _be joking. You know that I couldn't sing to save my life or my country.

Don't you worry, you'll sing as a nightingale

A nightingale that sounds like an eagle! I snort. 

Don't be so pessimistic! Come on, you'll start tomorrow.

Can't we leave out the "singing-bride" part? I whimper. 

Absolutely no! It's an ancient tradition! 

I'd gladly burn down these Goddamned traditions!  

Next chapter: the Wedding!


	3. Chapter three: the wedding!

Sorry if it took me so long… Anyway, it's finally over. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and waited patiently…

Kat: I'm glad you like it so. I hop you'll like the last chapter too.  

lotrobsession: as far away as he could. And seeing how the preparations are going, I can't really blame him.  

To Lady Parcifal, Speechless, Fireblade K'Chona, Dinosaur2, Mystik Surreality, Kezya and SperryDee:

Thank you very very much! 

Chapter 3: The wedding! 

Finally the great day has come! I can't wait to become Faramir's wife… and I can't wait for _all_ of this to be over! It's a wonder that I hadn't lost my mind… But maybe it's a little bit early to speak.

Today is my wedding day and I don't know what's going to happen.

Should I say it? I'm worried. _Very_ worried. If Éomer ruins the most joyous day of my life, then I shall ruin _him_. Stop. Wait a moment… I can't, he's Lothiriel's fiancée. And then he's my brother and I do love him. I think. 

Anyway, now I'm putting on my traditional Rohirric wedding dress. _Very _traditional Rohirric wedding dress. My brother told me that, since I loved so much horses, I would have surely liked it. Now, my wedding dress is not white or green. It's _brown_. Brown like a horse-mane. Brown like…something else I really don't wish to think about. 

On my gown there are intricate decors made with horse-hair. 

My sleeves are decorated with horse-hairs hanging loose. 

My high-collar is decorated with horse-hairs. 

My bouquet is bound with _horse-hairs_.  

In my own hair they've braided… 

No. 

They've braided horse-shoes. 

I wonder: if our symbolic animal had been a cow, _what _were they going to adorn me with?  

I can't believed this day has come. It seems yesterday that I reached the White City, riding with the Halfling disguised as a Rohirric soldier.   

And now here I am, waiting for Éomer to walk me to the aisle. 

With bridles and a sugar-plum.  

Valar help me: here he comes. 

My dear sister, you look beautiful

I'm absolutely stunned. I knew that my brother was not in the best of taste, but…Oh, Valar!  

Note to self: never let Éomer near my wardrobe again. And warn poor Lothiriel. 

So…shall we go? he asks me. Are you ready? Do you want something? Don't you worry, there's no need to be nervous. Everything will be just fine, just remember to breath. It's not as bad as you think…

As he keeps on babbling, I wonder: is he speaking to me or to himself?

I shake my head. To think that _I_ should be the nervous one…What the Hell will happen on his wedding day? Probably he'll faint…

Finally, I can't take it anymore: Éomer, calm down… I tell him.

How can I? My only sister is getting married!

I roll my eyes: Éomer, get a grip on yourself! You're a King, act like one! I don't mean to be so rough, but if I don't take the matter into my own hands, I won't get married today, nor tomorrow, nor in a million years from now.  

You're the King of the Riddermark, a son of the House of Eorl and a noble warrior: you can't loose your self-control for such a small thing! I tell him sternly. Remember the battle of Helm's Deep, and when you fought on the Pelennor fields against the greatest army ever. Attention, soldier! You'll walk you sister to the aisle and follow the ceremony as it was settled! Is that clear, soldier? 

Oh my God, I sound like a sergeant.  

Yes, sir! Éomer replies – and the worst part is that he isn't joking: he's serious!   

Good I nod Now, to the battlefield! I order, giving him my arm. 

He takes it and we head to the ceremony. 

I can barely suppress a smile: at least I haven't lost my touch… What a shame that Éomer overreacted. We're practically marching more than walking! Just the flourish of trumpet is missing…Wait a moment, was that a horn? 

Yeas, it was. Apparently, in the Mark the sound of horns and trumpets salutes the bride. 

Is this a wedding or a military parade?

Then I see Faramir, and all my worries disappear. I don't care about the guests, the musicians, the soldiers: all I can see is him. My heart skips a beat when my brother hands me over to him. He's so beautiful and kind and brave and…Oh, run out of adjectives! There are no words good enough to describe him. 

He's the love of my life. I can't believe that I'm going to be his and he's going to be mine. 

I just wish I didn't look so ridiculous, thanks to my brother's efforts… 

Oh, well. Here we are. The ceremony starts and I lost myself in its slow rhythm. Since it's a mix of Rohirric and Gondorian wedding ceremonies, I guess it's going to take quite a long time. 

In fact, we go on for about three hours, but I'm too happy to be bored. The only problem is, I have to check on my brother every five seconds, just to be sure that he doesn't fall asleep. 

Another problem raise when I am to sing. It doesn't go very well. I think nobody will be so false to compliment us. I don't know how they stand us: first, we are off key, second, we aren't able to start all together and third…everyone of us is playing or singing a different tune. 

That was surely the worst part…   

Then, suddenly, it's over: Faramir and I are officially man and wife. 

We all move to another hall, when there will be the

wedding feast. 

When the doors open, my eyes get wide. That's impossible. Probably we took a wrong turn or… No, this _can't_ be our banquet hall!  

Unfortunately, it is. 

Looks like Éomer decided to surprise us, organizing the decorations of the hall. 

All the walls are covered with swords, shields, spears, daggers, knives, bows, arrows, quivers… And right above the table where Faramir and I are going to sit, there's a great axe hanging from the ceiling. That's why I thought when had ended up in the armory. 

I swallow hard. This is going to be hard.

As soon as we sat down, Éomer stands up grinning: looks like he's going to hold the traditional speech. 

Today… he starts …is a day full of joy, that will be forever remembered Yeah, right. Today my darling sister Éowyn, the white lady of Rohan, will leave forever the house of her family and her beloved country for her new home and her new country. Her loss, however heavy, is soothed by our knowledge that she'll be treasured and cherished by her husband he glares at Faramir He'd better treasure her, if he doesn't want to have the whole Rohan after him 

I snort. Did he really have to tell it?  

His speech goes on and on for more than one hour…And we are all starving. And bored. And glaring daggers to Éomer, even if he doesn't realize it.  

Oh, no. Here goes again. When he starts talking about me, there's no way in Hell he'd stop. And unfortunately, he tends to get lost in his own speech, saying a lot of stupid things. 

Éowyn, beautiful white horse… 

What?! Where the Hell did he take it?

All right, I know it's terribly un-lady like, but I can't help it: I raise my arms and sniff. Just to be sure, you know….  

Faramir leans toward me and whispers: How long will it take him to finish?

I don't know, but I know a way to shut his mouth… I reply, eyeing a sword. 

If he keeps on embarrassing me like this, I swear I'll do it!

Thanks God the guests gave up on listening long ago… Except for Lothiriel, who watches Éomer with starry eyes. She's totally head over heels… Either that, or she sleeps with her eyes open like an elf. 

Wait a moment, has he finished?

…and now let's celebrate this joyous union!

 My brother sits down an Lothiriel is the only one clapping in the whole room: all the others have started eating as soon as he stopped talking. 

I don't know who cooked this meal: probably some Halflings. There are so many dishes that we'll never finish them… They're very good but terribly stodgy! I don't know if my stomach will survive… I just hope that my _brown _dress won't explode. 

Faramir and I don't really enjoy our meal: we keep an eye on our plates and the other on the axe above. The more hours pass – looks like this feast will never end – the more nervous we become, and personally I think we have a good reason…   

Hours and hours later, dinner is over and the dance finally begins. I sigh out of relief. It's almost over. 

I wander among chatting groups of lady, smiling and thanking them for coming and for their compliments. 

I swear, defeating the Witch King was easier. And less stressful. 

I know that Éomer just wanted to help, but I still think that if he wanted to kill me, he could have used a different and faster system. 

A wonderful ceremony, wasn't it, my Lady? a plump lady in yellow asks me. 

I wonder who she is – I must be polite, it could be my relative, that Lady Blackwood…    

Oh, yes, really wonderful 

But if I am born again, I'll devote myself to the Virgin Goddess. One wedding is enough, thankyouverymuch. 

This was terrible…yet I know that someday I'll miss this day and I'll laugh of what happened today. Someday. 

For now, I'm just happy. Happy to be Faramir's wife. Happy because this mess is over and it'll be a long, long time before I see another Rohirric wedding.  

Éowyn! 

I turn around and I see Lothiriel coming toward me. Her eyes are sparkling and she looks positively radiant. 

Oh, Éowyn, you'll never believe what happened! 

I smile at her: Please, tell me

Éomer asked me to marry him! Isn't it won…Éowyn, are you all right? Do you want me to call Faramir? she asks, seeing me grow pale. 

Oh no. _Not _another Rohirric wedding!

The end?

(Just kidding, this _is _the end)

Bye everybody and happy 2004! 


End file.
